


Heaven meets Hell // Frerard

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Demonic!Frank, Fist me Gerard is attractive, M/M, fucking mcr, priest!Gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is very anti-God. Since he was abused by his overtly religious father, Frank has always believed that God does not care for him, therefore Frank shall not care for God. Father Way did not go with Mikey to Frank's to convert him into a Christian, not at all... But how far has Frank drifted from Heaven?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abuse

I shook, hating the way I shivered like a whimpering toddler- though I was only four. I could see him looking down at me in disgust. Regret. I don't know. But he's ready. I'm not. I want to run, to get away. I can't. I'm stuck here, waiting in horror. He stands up, grabbing the rod with the christian cross glowing bright red from the fire. He doesn't bother giving me any warning, simply grabs my elbow and presses the cross against my bicep. The burning is agony. It feels like he's trying to saw a whole through my arm and it fucking hurts. I can't help yelling out in pain. I try to writhe out of his grip, but he only holds on tighter, pressing the burning cross harder against my arm. With the pressure the skin started to split and I could feel the blood--

"Frank!"  
Taking a large, gasping breath, I sit up sharply. My PJ shirt and hair is sticking to me with sweat, body shaking and I can feel my heart pounding. Mikey stares at me with wide eyes, almost breathing as heavy as me. It's then that I notice that, from the sofa I fell asleep on, he had obviously kicked the door open and someone was hovering awkwardly in the doorway, as if wanting to come in but unsure.  
"Fucking hell, Frank, you terrified me!" Mikey scolds lightheartedly. Surprisingly, he wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Gerard almost shat himself."  
"No I did not," The man in the doorway defended, crossing his arms. "If anything, it only took me by surprise. I can handle stuff like this, believe it or not."  
"I don't," Mikey smirks, before turning to me. "I'll explain in a minute. You need to take a shower before you soak the couch in sweat."  
Reluctantly, I let him push me to my apartment's bathroom. Before Mikey could 'force' me into washing, the Gerard guy clears his throat.  
"It's alright if I, uh, come in... Right?"  
At the same time, Mikey and I said "yes", though Mikey sounds more annoyed and sarcastic. I sort of wish Mikey wasn't pushing me so forcefully to have a shower which, under no context, sounds right. I don't know why but I've always had a thing for showers- not necessarily washing, but showering. There's just... something about Gerard. I don't know. It's a weird gut-instinct thing, I guess. Then again, from what I saw he looks pretty fucking hot. So much that he will probably have something to cockblock me somehow. He'll either be straight, or asexual, or married- I don't know, a homophobic or something.  
Actually, I'm going to kiss Mikey's shoes. The shower is so relaxing and after that memory? I definitely don't need a reminder of that. It's why I hate God and religion. I do believe God is real, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. I mean, I tried to have the cross scar tattooed over but even the artist couldn't explain why the gun wouldn't even make a scratch on the cross, nevermind ink over it.  
"You were in there a while," Mikey points out when I come out, dried and dressed. "Your arm ok?"  
"What? Yeah, fine, why?"  
"You keep rubbing it." Gerard points out, catching my attention.  
I'd almost forgotten about him, somehow. He's sat at the breakfast bar, hands together between his knees. Of course when I decide to check out his leather jacket which is really rad, I notice the fucking collar. Priest. He's a fucking priest. Someone definitely hates me.  
"I'm going to be extremely blunt here," I warn, turning to Mikey. "Why did you come here, early on a fucking Monday, with a priest?"  
"Oh," Mikey says, after a pause of confusion. "No, no, this is my brother!"  
I can't help but look between them, searching for similarities. I can't see any. I mean, they have the same eyes I guess, but they definitely don't look like brothers. It doesn't explain why there's a priest in my apartment. Though it also doesn't explain why I'm getting so angry about it. He's just doing what he believes, why am I so pissed off?  
"Are you ok?" Gerard asks, getting up off the chair.  
"Frank?"  
"What? I'm fine." I say, blinking between the two of them confused. Mikey looks shaken up and Gerard has this determined expression- which is worrying. "What?"  
Mikey looks to Gerard, a though hoping he will get some answers as to whatever they're freaking out over. Gerard simply shrugs, only sparing Mikey a glance. It's a little creepy and I'm extremely tempted to kick them both out. Actually, I don't see any reason not to. Mikey hasn't given any reason as to why I should listen to his brother preach about that asswhole in the sky.  
"Look, guys, if you aren't going to-" I begin, only to get cut off.  
"You don't know what just happened, do you?" Gerard questions, one eyebrow raised.  
"No. You're both just... Freaking out and it's weird, ok? Nothing happened."  
Mikey and Gerard share a look that, to me, says they're not going to mention anything. This is a good idea. Again, I don't know why I'm so pissed off, but at least this time it's within reason and not just so randomly angry it's like I've started menstruating.  
They don't mention anything about what "happened" for any of the evening, though they do eventually explain why they're here. Apparently Gerard ha a thing for rock music, surprisingly, and when he heard I play guitar he- worded beautifully by Mikey- 'wet himself in anticipation'. Of course Gerard denies being so overly excited, though doesn't try to hide his excitement over guitars at all. Obviously I end up playing for them. I enjoy playing guitar and it's a good outlet for the unreasonable anger I've had building up.  
Once I calm down and stop having random, unexplainable bursts of anger, I find I actually do get along with Gerard. He doesn't seem to mind that I keep calling him Gerard instead of Father either, which is brilliant. I wouldn't call him Father even if he asked. But, honestly, he's not really that much like a priest- or at least, not a stereotypical priest because, according to him, a lot priests smoke. I honestly don't know how I should be responding but sitting with him, sharing a smoke... It's easier to stop seeing him as just a preacher.  
Gerard likes the same bands as me. He actually has better music taste than Mikey, which is saying something since Mikey has an amazing taste in music. Even though they said earlier that they can only stay an hour or so, it isn't until the sun is getting low in the sky that they get ready to leave. Gerard kept insisting on playing me some bands and when Mikey pointed out that we're running out of time, he started to write a list and swore he'd be back tomorrow and- if not- the next day.  
"Gerard," Mikey sighs, exasperated. "Come on. You need to get to the church."  
"Yes, yes, just give me a minute..." Gerard mutters, still writing more artists onto the list- it's actually really fucking long, but some I already know. "Just a few more."  
"You were meant to be there two hours ago for your daily prayers," Mikey says, a scolding and motherly tone entering his voice. "You have time to come back tomorrow. Come on!"  
"Ok, ok! Fine!" Gerard exclaims, pointing at me with a jokingly angry expression. "I'll be back tomorrow."  
"I'm counting on it."  
Oh fuck. That wasn't a good idea. Who flirts with a priest? Well, he's smiling. He doesn't look at all angry, or offended. Actually, he looks rather pleased. Before I can say anything to make me sound less like I'm trying to fuck him and more like a friend, he pulls me into a rather tight hug. The cross scar burns, making my whole arm feel numb. It isn't necessarily a horribly painful feeling, but it isn't completely pleasing either.  
"Tomorrow, then." Gerard smiles, patting my shoulder as he lets go of me. "Have a good night's sleep, Frank."  
He is so sincere it almost hurts. He's the priest f a religion and God I hate. I actually feel a little guilty. I haven't done anything wrong but some part of me is glad that there is a painful nag of pins and needles in my pain.  
Either I'm on my menstrual cycle or Gerard is evil because there is no other explanation for my constant mood swings.


	2. Wrong

His collar is actually helpful. Grabbing it, I’m able to pull him toward the rarely used bed of my apartment. His face is getting more and redder over time. He doesn't put up a fight when I kiss him- in fact, it’s like he himself is enjoying this. He opens his mouth willingly, reaching forward to grab my hips. He moans softly when I gently bite down on his bottom lip, moving forward to press against me. It stops too suddenly. He pulls back, looking at me in horror and surprise.  
“What’s wrong?” I try to ask, but no words come out.  
He looks down and I follow his eyes down. A knife is stabbed into his stomach, handle held by my hand. His blood is soaking my hands, staining the skin. I try to yell out, or explain, or anything. Silence. Instead, my hand twists the knife and he gives out a choked whimper.  
“Frank…” He tries to say.  
Looking up, I realise he has blood slowly coming from his mouth, crying silently from the pain.

Yelling in surprise, I sit up on the sofa. Panting, I look around the apartment and, paranoid, I check the bedroom to make sure Gerard isn't actually laying anywhere bloody and dead. I lean my back against the corridor wall, trying to calm my heartbeat down.  
What type of dream was that?! I mean, firstly it’s weird enough that I was dreaming about making out with Gerard, but to dream about killing him? That’s seriously fucked up. I don't want to kill Gerard. If anything, the dream has only made me paranoid about Gerard getting hurt. I can't tell if that was a nightmare or wet dream or both. Horrifying is the best word for it. Horrifying and fucking weird.  
When there’s a knock at the door, I literally run over and pull the door open roughly. Gerard looks surprised, hand still raised after knocking. Before he can say whatever it is he was going to say, I grab his jacket and hug him tightly.  
“Fuck,” I snap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  
“Frank, calm down,” Gerard sooths, rubbing his hands on my back. “What happened?”  
“No, it was just a dream,” I mutter, giving his shoulder two light patts. “I'm overreacting, really. I’m fine.” I pause, laughing uneasily. “For a moment I thought it was going to be Mikey, crying or some shit.”  
“Why would Mikey be crying?” Gerard asks sharply, finally sounding like the older, protective brother.  
“Well, possibly because I thought you were dead for a moment.”  
Gerard looks more confused. With a sigh, I indicate he follow me to the kitchen. Once we're both sat down, I start to tell him about the dream. If it wasn't a priest I'd probably feel hesitant to say something to him, or just not say anything at all. He most likely listens to a lot of people complaining about their lives or fucked up problems, so I don't see how there could be anything to lose in telling him that I had a nightmare about him dying. I mean, it was just a nightmare and normally nightmares contain weird ass thoughts or things happening that we would never want to happen.  
When I've told him the whole dream, he excuses himself to pray. I don't exactly mind, he can pray whenever he wants to, it’s not my choice. Though it’s a bit helpful. It sounds a bit creepy, but with him distracted I'm finally able to look at him and not feel extremely perverted about it.  
He has mild crow’s feet that I hadn't noticed before. It isn't from age- I'd asked and he’s only twenty-six. They must be from either laughing or smiling, which is a nice thought. Around his eyes are also the faint lines of what I recognize as eyeliner not washed off thoroughly. Then there’s his skin tone. His skin is pale, almost flawlessly so which- admittedly- is annoying as fuck. I mean, his eyes are bright, happy, his nose is small and somewhat adorable, his lips are plush- but not so much that it could be considered silly… His hair too. His roots are a brown colour, revealing how his hair has actually been dyed black and, as always, it looks hot as fuck on him. How the fuck is this man a priest? There must be a lot of people that want to fuck him.  
“Well, uh, I can't say it’s the weirdest thing I've ever been told,” Gerard says, the only warning being his little ‘amen’ whispered before he turned to look at me. “Thank you for telling me, however. Mikey, uh, explained how you feel about religion.” Gerard shrugs, not looking at all offended. “I know you don’t believe it, but in my mind by telling me this you have removed a lot of bad karma from your shoulders.”  
“Aren't you Christian?” I blurt out, before I can even filter the words into a polite form.  
“I am,” Gerard grins, laughing. “But that doesn't mean I can’t believe in bad luck now, does it?” Gerard has to pause, leaning forward with his laughter. Once he calms down, he grins again. “Aren't we supposed to be listening to music right now?”  
Listening to music with Gerard still seems odd, even after spending two hours doing it last night. It’s like he’s taken off his priest collar, simply being a normal man in his twenties and not a devout religious preacher. The only way I can stop myself treating him in what would be considered a sin way is the collar. It still doesn't stop how we end up sat, somehow.  
On the sofa, we both spread out to get comfy and don't mind each other. Well, at first I wasn't sure how to sit but when Gerard sat with on leg over mine, I relaxed more. We're now sat quite odd, actually. Gerard has his head resting on the arm of the sofa, one leg over the back of the sofa while his other is over my legs, not bothered that his crotch is literally in my face. One of my legs is hooked around his hip, ankle leaning on his hip bone while my other is resting fully on the sofa, foot near Gerard’s head. Gerard has the laptop on his lap, face half hidden behind it while Frank has his arms crossed, elbows resting on Gerard’s thighs.  
“This is Morrissey from The Smiths,” Gerard explains as another songs starts to play. “You know The Smiths right?”  
“Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” I smirk, using my foot near his head to gently kick him in the face. “And I know who Morrissey is as well. I’m not like Mikey, you know.”  
“I mean, it’s not like I kicked him when he first told me he didn't like them or anything,” Gerard says lightly.  
There’s a pause, Gerard typing away before we both start laughing. Gerard ends up throwing his head back, laughing even higher in pitch than usual. I, on the other hand, have tears streaming down my face from laughing. It isn't even that funny, but we’re still laughing. My stomach is hurting from laughing so hard and the laptop has fallen off of Gerard’s stomach. I haven’t felt this happy in years.  
At least, that’s before the pain started up in the cross scar on my arm and my laughter soon turned into screams.


End file.
